Un homme à la mer
by Congo Shabba
Summary: Nothing can come between Jack and the Pearl, not even love. Slash, deathfic.


**A/N: **Lyrics from Saez.

**Warning:** JW slash, death fic.

**Un homme à la mer**

_S'en aller, main dans la main  
S'en aller, bien avant que l'heure  
Oublier qu'ici on n'est rien  
Oublier qu'ici on a peur_

"Jack! Don't be stupid! Please! Come on, jump! Come on!" a desperate voice called.

Unfortunately, the distressed voice was lost among the loud growls of flames, among the whistling wind, among the emptiness. Scarlet, vicious flames roared wildly; the sea was a bright crimson, the waves reflecting the dying wood and even the sky wore a red cloak. A couple of small boats stayed still near the ill-fated spectacle laid before their eyes.

And they couldn't do a thing except perhaps pray for a miracle...

Oh, how the mighty had fallen! The linen of the once proud and large sails, the wood that had seen so much, bore so many, smouldered away little by little while hope was fading fast. A ship was sinking, lost in clear bright flames. A black flag was slowly eaten away by the raging fire, a white skull drawn on it. A pirate ship, but not any, was burning. The notorious Black Pearl was sinking, soon to be engulfed and forgotten in the deep abyss of the sea.

At the helm, a lone figure stood still, seemingly undisturbed by the fire .

"C'mon, Cap'n!" another voice urged.

"Jack, bring yer fat, daft, foolish, insolent arse out 'ere," an angry, feminine voice shouted.

But the silhouette didn't move, no matter what they said, it remained anchored to the deck of the dying ship. Aboard one of the small boats, a young man frantically divested himself of his vest and trousers with clumsy fingers. The others tried to stop him. There were shouts, angry growls, there were even soft pleas and cries. But the young man's mind appeared to be already made. He was resolute. He was going to jump.

He knew of the captain's feelings, he understood them well, he also shared them though his were not as intense, not as passionate as were the captain's. He knew of the love and fondness, he knew of the special bond between man and ship. Everybody knew about it but he was the only one who could grasp it so clearly. Their captain would be nothing left of a captain without that ship, _his_ ship.

But if the young man's feelings towards the mighty vessel didn't even begin to compete with the other's, there were unquestionably others that _did_ rival them such as sis affection, his attachment, his love even, dared he say it, for the captain himself. The profound and sincere friendship that linked both men was something very rare amongst pirates and even amongst the other folk.

He couldn't remember a time when he didn't know the captain, his captain, his friend, his mentor, even if it wasn't that long ago that he had first met him...He felt as if his heart and soul had known him from the very first day of his existence. And he couldn't remember a time when he didn't feel glad being a part of the infamous Black Pearl's crew. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't feel as free as now.

And he would not let that slip away. He would not let his captain, his friend do something stupid, as the older man often said himself. And he would grab _the_ opportune moment, he would reason him, he would bring him back, he would, he knew he would. Because, for some unfathomable reason, he felt that only he, William Turner, would be able to knock some sense into Captain Jack Sparrow.

Well, reasoning with the captain was a strong word, of course. When his mind was set up on something, it was hard, nearly impossible, to reason with him, to make him think logically. When his heart was set up on something, it was the same as when the Pearl decided she could take on any storm and effectively did. It seemed captain and ship shared the same insufferable will. And Will dared not take any unnecessary risks.

He would rather give him a new incentive, a new motive to make him let go of the Pearl. No, he would not make him think rationally, rather he would make him act on a spur of the moment, he would make him do something brash, foolish even, that the captain would certainly qualify as stupid. What that drive was, he still didn't really know.

He could only think of so few reasons that would make Jack jump off that ship. He could only think of a handful of causes that would do the trick. They'd have to be good, more than good, and he'd have to mean them. Honesty would save him.

Well, he could think of one, a very good one too. Yet he was afraid it would bounce back or worsen things. He could pretend he was honest and had genuine intentions, oh, he could...but then again, he wouldn't be sure if he pretended to pretend, if he was being truthful or if he was simply fooling everybody.

He had to something, anything, because it didn't do anyone any good standing there, half-nude, pondering on the countless 'what ifs'. And don't get him started on the bloody Code pirates had. Because he knew that the damn thing was part of the reticence the crew had at saving their own captain. How he loathed that thing. But as Barbossa had said: they were more than guidelines anyway.

He jumped and swam in the cold water. He shivered, chills flowing through his entire body. How he wished for a hot bowl of soup right now, a cosy fire or a warm blanket. If he ever made it back with a safe and sound Jack, he'd make him pay, count on it. Panting heavily, and coughing, he reached the deck with a loud thump. Water gushed on the wood. His damp hair was sticking to his face, his cheeks were greatly flushed, his remaining clothes clung to his body, his teeth clattered. He hated this. He hated being wet and cold. That man would be the death of him. Hopefully, it would not be today.

Looking up, he registered sails, deck and masts in flames: a whole ship crumpling, disappearing. His blurry eyes swept the entire ship, or what was left of it, to land, at last, on the helm. There was nobody there. Growing uneasy, he made to get up to go searching for the missing captain. He would've sworn he was there only minutes ago. Still, he couldn't help the image of a hand reaching out to him from inside a great, orange pyre.

As if on cue, he suddenly felt someone lifting him up off the deck. He certainly didn't expect the captain to come to him. He even less expected him to be friendly. He'd half-expected him to ignore him, or throw him back in the sea, he'd half-expected him to gaze at him, eyes empty, heart heavy. But he surely didn't expect this, this _warmth_.

"Will, you bloody stupid fool...you could've drowned there!"

Oh, Jack. Jack with a voice he had yet to hear or if he had, he didn't quite remember. Sweet, soft, caring, concerned, worried... Rough, shaking fingers brushed his drenched locks out of his face, tucking them behind his ears, lingering on his cheek, ghosting over his blue lips. His heart was beating fast, perhaps it even skipped a beat, or two, or three.

Will leaned in at the touch, only to have to callused hands back away. He inwardly groaned at the loss of contact, in disappointment, regret or even frustration? He couldn't exactly name the feeling he had but he knew one thing: he'd ruined the opportune moment and if Will ever knew what an opportune moment was, that definitely _had been_ one right there. It had been pleasantly unexpected but so special,

"I'm alright," he said, under Jack's narrowed eyes. "I'm fine really, no worries," he assured him again. "Anyway, I'm a good swimmer," Will tried to joke, coughing the water in his throat.

"That's not the bloody point and you know it, whelp," Jack retorted, while smiling softly at him.

Chocolate pools stared back at him, glowing in a strange glint he'd yet to see. The sight of the drenched whelp was truly too much to stay angry at him. He could only wonder why he was here. He surely had a few ideas of what he'd like to be true but they'd never be. Oh! Will was here. That's all that mattered; one last glance before it would all end.

"Look, Jack, I-we're friends...right? And that's what friends do, stick up for each other, you know, stop them from doing stupid things, and that sort of things, " Will said. But Jack's eyes were cast on the sea of bright rubies, forlorn, alone.

"_Friends_?" he asked, a bitter taste on his tongue. "Oh, Will," he said ruefully. "Exactly why are you here?" Jack's eyes narrowed at Will. "Lost a bet, been marooned, drew the short straw? Well?"

"I told you. Friends are there for each other. That's all."

"You're repeating yourself, Will. Tell me something new."

"There's nothing else to say."

"Fine," Jack replied, walking away to the other side of the ship.

"I don't want you to die." And he was met by a stubborn silence. "I'm telling the truth, there's nothing else to say about this," Will said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No bets, no short straws, no punishments, no hidden motives."

Jack whirled around at this, a strangle glint in his eyes, his lips thinned.

"Not even a teensy something about the _agua de la vida_?"

"You think I really care about being immortal?"

"You're obsessed with treasure, mate," Jack said flatly, shrugging.

"Look, Jack," Will replied, pointedly ignoring that last comment. "You know those moments when you think I do stupid things?"

"Aye?"

"This is one of those."

"…come again?" Jack hissed.

"There's no simple, or easy way to say this, I'm sorry." Will held up his hands in defence. "You have to let go, Jack. Let go."

"You think it's done just like that?"

"I know how you love this ship but... that's it, it's just a ship."

"It's not _just_ a ship, William. We're bonded, her and me. Bonded, you hear? Life and death and all that. I thought you of all people understood, I thought you knew," he said in a broken voice. "And sometimes, I felt you'd known all along, long before I told you about it. I thought you _saw_ it."

"I do. Believe me, I do. But there's so much more you could do. It doesn't have to end here."

"Do I mean so little to you that you think you can disrespect my last wish, sailor?"

"It's because you mean too much to me and I cannot live you to die here," Will stressed.

"I can't leave, mate. Pearl is _my_ ship. My freedom, my heart, my soul, my pride, my joy, my _raison d'être_. This ship is all I've got, savvy?"

"That's not true. You have the crew, and Gibbs, and Anamaria." Will paused. "And you have me."

"I have you," Jack repeated dully.

"Then come with me," Will said, placing a hand on the pirate's arm. "Let us buy a new ship to sail to the Seven Seas, and loot like we never looted. Let us make new memories, start a new life, build a new legend. You'll _always_ be Captain Jack Sparrow, mate." Jack allowed a small smile to grace his lips at that but shook his head.

"No, you don't understand, Will. I _can't_ replace her. Not on me life."

"Jack-"

"Don't you see? I'll lose a part of meself if I leave her today, and I dread I'll lose everything after. My sanity, my will to fight, even my love of gold. How can I still be Captain Jack Sparrow after that?"

"It doesn't have to end here, Jack."

"It's all I can do, you know, be a pirate. It's all I ever did," he whispered. "And we've been through so much, her and me. I can't just leave her all on her onesies, savvy?" he said, turning his back to the other man.

Will's fingers crept up Jack's arm, pressing softly his shoulder. Encouraged as he felt his friend relax against him, he rubbed both his arms as if to warm him up. Jack leaned in the touch fully, surprising Will. He turned around almost imperceptibly and nuzzled his neck. Will's hair which was still wet felt cool on his skin. Strangely, it felt good.

"Jack, I-I can't, "Will whispered, caressing his cheek delicately. Next thing he knew Jack was standing with his back facing him again; he felt cold.

"Look, Will, just leave, alright? Tell 'em you tried your best, aye? They won't hold it against it you. Nobody will."

"Nobody forced me to do anything. If I'm here, it's of my own free will. I _wish_ to be here, Jack. With you."

Jack's figured stiffened before it slowly turned to face the former blacksmith, a frown shaped. "...what are you saying exactly, Turner?"

"If you're intent on staying here, then I'll bloody stay with you."

"Will, you fool, you know as well as I do that I won't leave Pearl on any account," Jack said hoarsely. "I'm bound to her."

"I know. I'm not making you choose between us, Jack. I've stopped thinking I could make you leave since a while ago."

The younger man couldn't exactly tell how the last statement should've been taken but he knew what it said to him. A conclusion. He merely nodded, a soft smirk drawn on his lips, yet lacking the usual malice or mischievousness. He nodded in understanding, in approval, in awareness. He knew what was coming, he felt it as if the wind had changed courses, as if it was plainly written in the sky above. He felt no longer upset nor angry nor snappy, just, perhaps, a bit sad.

He was still so young, had yet to see and learn. He had dreams, of course, dreams he would never see fulfilled, dreams who would always remain dreams. But he found, in the end, he didn't really care that much anymore. He was ready for this, he truly was. No apprehension, no qualms, no dread, just a whole lot of serenity and calm. He was ready for this; all he could do was to tell Jack he was, to let him know he wasn't alone in this. He stepped a bit closer to the other pirate, taking his hesitant hand in his. He knew what Jack was worried about: something thoroughly unpredictable, something he couldn't control. He gingerly placed their hands upon the pirate's breast, hovering above his heart.

"I'm bound to you, Jack," Will said, smiling, setting Jack's heart on fire.

Both men fell silent, though not in an awkward quiet, but in one where they could wander off thinking, musing, pondering, where they did not worry to find something bright to say or not to say, not distressing about what would come next. Time was slipping by and it was becoming apparent to Jack about what would ensue. They would both stay aboard this ship. They would both see their end aboard the legendary Black Pearl, together, hand in hand. She would make them a decent sepulchre, she would. Yes, they still had much to talk about, but that's what eternity's for, innit?


End file.
